


I'll Follow You

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, DEATH OKAY, Daddy Kink, Death from Old Age, Heart Attacks, Homophobia, I cried while writing this, M/M, QPQVerse, Real hard, Suicide, Tears - Freeform, age gap, i word i just learned, im done cause im CRYING let me know if i forget a tag, its subtle but you cant write one of these without it, necrophobia, obviously, so briefly you can blink and miss it, someone had to do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 04:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7786993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Washington was twenty-six years older, and as they began to age together it reminded Alex of a painful truth he avoided dwelling on; George would not outlive him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Follow You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rillrill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Quid Pro Quo](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880157) by [rillrill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillrill/pseuds/rillrill). 



Washington was twenty-six years older, and as they began to age together it reminded Alex of a painful truth he avoided dwelling on; George would not outlive him.

The first time he thought about it was when Washington mentioned that he thought his eyebrows were going to look strange when they went completely gray, a few gray strands having already lightened them. They lay in bed together after Alex teased him, and it started to hit him that the man he loved was aging. That their age gap was becoming more prevalent. Alex didn’t cry, not really, it was a rare occasion that he did and this wasn’t one that would meet the few exceptions. However a slightly unsteady breath was all it took to get George’s attention. “What’s wrong? Alex?” The concern in his voice was thick, there was nothing that he could list to offset his boy, and he didn’t like the unsteady footing that came with not knowing.

Alex shook his head, a dry chuckle leaving his lips as he tried to find the words for it, “It’s nothing really, guess I’m just wondering how I got stuck with such an old man.” He joked, but it was weak, and the true meaning shone throw, making Washington frown as he turned down the TV and looked at Alex, into his eyes, he was always so focused, his gaze always made Alex feel small in the best of ways.

“Alex-“

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alexander-“

“It’s stupid; really, I just need to distract myself.”

“I’m healthy, it will be a long time until-“

“ _Stop._ Please.”

The crack in his voice was enough to convince Washington to close his mouth, a broad hand coming to ghost his knuckles over Alex’s sharp cheekbone, eyebrows knitting together with worry, “Not for a very long time princess.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss him softly. The night slowly dissolved into a symphony of _I love you_ ’s and _Please Daddy_ ’s and the fear of loss turned into the bliss of having right now.

 

 

Washington had a heart attack.

It made sense, the stress of leaving politics, of retiring and coming out so that he no longer had to hide his boy from the world. The first time they walked down the street hand in hand someone yelled _Faggots_ from across the street and George had to hold Alex back, literally, with a harsh whisper of, “Be a good boy.” Into his ear that told Alex it wasn’t an option. He really didn’t appear to be stressed by the changes, but the doctors don’t lie.

Alex’s shaky hands dialed 911 in the middle of the night as he sobbed and let a litany of usually resisted tears stream while he clutched Washington’s hand, “Don’t leave me.” Repeating over and over until he had to give the dispatcher their address,  Alex was a wreck, didn’t complain once about being in the hospital's stale atmosphere and George was fine, told he was healthy, that it was most likely a onetime event and he should do everything he could to relieve stress. When they were finally home again Alex made Washington sit back as he rode him, moaning obscenely, far too invested in the feel of his Daddy’s cock buried inside him, George opened his eyes to see more tears in Alexander’s and he ignored the protests as he changed their position, looming over his boy while thrusting deep and hard, the kind of aggression that let Alex get out of his own head.

When they finished and laid spent beside each other George didn’t leave the bed to get Alex cleaned up, just held him close and let them both fall asleep to mumbles of _I love you_ and _I’m still here_.

 

 

They get past Alex’s fear of being alone again for a long time, it just doesn’t come up. Washington’s eyebrows go gray, Alex starts to see a number of grayness in his own hair as well, he looks less youthful, and it makes it seem less real that he could survive over twenty years after George’s death.

(In all honesty, he’ll probably hardly survive a day. But then again, every time a tragedy has struck in his life he can never seem to die.)

They get a dog, an underlying promise of fifteen more years together, at least, a reminder that a year isn’t a short amount of time, its George’s seventieth birthday and Alex is forty-four and they are both seeing their age difference just a little more, however the lack of slowing in their sex drive just further proves that age isn’t something Alex has to worry about yet.

 

 

He dies when he’s eighty-one, it’s a week after Alex’s fifty-fifth birthday, they didn’t have sex often anymore but their day together was amazing, their dog, once a small puppy, curled up at their feet, Alex waking the next day with expectation of the gentle touch of his husband, who had said I love you so many times that night, who told Alex he was _beautiful princess, still_ who had insisted on being inside him that night, made it better than their first time, not even comparable really, gentle and rough at the same time; tender and demanding. Alex has all this in mind as he turns into Washington’s side and is so shocked when he finds him cold and lifeless he lets out a literal scream.

 

Their dog is eleven, the promise is broken.

Alex is numb and the tears fall silently as he watches them take away George’s body, his fucking _body_ Jesus Christ.

He can’t take anymore.

 

He swallows a bottle of pills after he insists that Eliza and Martha and John don’t need to stay with him, that he needs to be alone.

 

He pulls on George’s shirt, the one he wore on Alex’s birthday just a week ago.

 

He crawls into bed.

 

And falls asleep.

 

Alone.

 

 

When he wakes up he’s at Washington’s office building. It’s dark, but unmistakable. Alex is standing in the middle of the bullpen; he sees the door to George’s office is ajar.

He walks towards it and hesitates, raises and hand and knocks lightly, the sound loud in the empty dark room, echoing and hollow. He hears the voice of Washington, “Come in.” It’s all business in his voice, but his voice is young, Alex looks down at himself for reasons he can’t quite fathom, he’s wearing the gray suit, the emerald green tie in a half Windsor knot.

He enters the room.


End file.
